Hunter's Mate

by Becca Jameson

  * * *

  Love, Marge

  * * *

  This woman was so damn tempting that Hunter was shaking inside. She couldn’t be sexier if she tried. She looked like a model. Hell, maybe she was. He had no idea. She was sweet and fiery at the same time. When she laughed, his entire body responded. When she frowned, he wanted to wipe away the hurt.

  She was his. He would convince her. Eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

  He needed to distract himself. “Tell me about yourself. I don’t even know what you do in Los Angeles.” He reached for a large box on a shelf and set it on the floor, intending to lower all of them so it would be easier for her to see inside. The basement was jammed with boxes. Some of them had Christmas decorations spilling out the tops. Other holidays were represented too. The task seemed overwhelming. Not something even four people could accomplish in a week. And Hunter wasn’t sad at the realization. Anything that kept her here longer was fine with him.

  She sighed, not meeting his gaze. “Might as well tell you. I was a starving actress.”

  He watched her fiddle with a box lid, her face tipped downward. He’d wondered if she might be a model or an actress. “Does that embarrass you?”

  “Yes. I can’t stand the idea of telling Elena I didn’t make it. My dreams were big. It took a while for reality to sink in. I would still be there now, lying to myself and working my ass off as a waitress if I hadn’t gotten your certified letter.”

  He swallowed. Damn, she was hurting. He noticed something else too. “You speak as if you’re done trying.”

  She finally lifted her gaze. “I am. And you have to keep that to yourself. I haven’t told Elena.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s a successful journalist in Chicago. I don’t want her to find out I failed.”

  Hunter stepped around the box in front of him so that he could reach out and touch her. “I don’t believe for a minute you’re a failure. So what if you didn’t get your big break. I bet you had some small jobs.” Please, God. Let that be true. She was so fucking gorgeous that it was impossible to imagine she hadn’t worked at all in the industry. He reached for her hand, stroking his thumb over her fingers.

  She nodded. “I did. A few commercials. Small parts in a few movies and shows. Nothing big. Nothing that paid the rent. I realized I love acting, but I don’t have the will to work that hard for it.”

  “What are you planning to do now?”

  “You can’t tell Elena or Caleb this either, but I left for good. I thought I’d go back to Chicago with Elena. Maybe do some off-Broadway acting.”

  For a moment the world stood still. She wasn’t going back to LA. She had no particular plan. He had to school his face to keep from appearing too excited. Afterall, she wasn’t pleased with the fact that she’d needed to make this decision.

  He lifted her hand to his chest and held it there. He loved making that connection with her. It always forced their hearts to sync and calmed both of them. “I’m sure you’d be amazing on stage. I’d love to see you some day.”

  She smirked. “What? You’re not going to try to talk me into staying in Canyon Springs?”

  “Oh, I am, but not with words. With actions. I can tell acting means the world to you, and you’re disappointed. And I hate sensing that pain. I can feel it running deep inside you. I’m so sorry things didn’t pan out the way you wanted. I never want you to feel that kind of letdown. When you’re hurting, I will hurt.” He pulled her closer and wrapped his other hand around her back.

  She leaned into him, her cheek on his chest.

  He closed his eyes and absorbed some of her pain. Or tried to. Hopefully his touch would soothe her. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you find yourself and figure out what you want to do next.”

  She lifted her face, removed her hand from his clasp, and slid both palms up his biceps until she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she lifted onto her tiptoes and initiated a kiss, he grabbed her tighter around the waist and moaned into her mouth.

  It was impossible to deny this woman. She was his heart. His life. His soul. His everything. All he could do was pray that she would see that soon and not leave for Chicago. Hell, he needed Elena to see the same thing. It was the only way.

  Every inhale told him she was growing more aroused by the second. There was an urgency in the air that came more from her than from him. It seemed like she might climb up his body, but instead she leaned into him, forcing him to take a step back so he wouldn’t fall.

  She was half his size, and yet she managed to knock him off his foundation. He took several more steps back at her relentless insistence, until his ass hit the shelving.

  Layla kissed him frantically, as though this would be their last. Her hands moved to his shirt and then his pecs. Everywhere. Exploring. Molding to him.

  His brain cells went out the window. He slid his palms to her ass and gripped, loving the feel of her softness. When his fingertips grazed the bottom edge of her shorts, teasing her skin, she moaned and ground her belly against his cock.

  It was almost impossible for Hunter to control himself with her sweet body tempting him. She smelled fucking fantastic. Her arousal was stronger than he’d had the pleasure of experiencing before. Intoxicating.

  He had to remind himself over and over that she was under the control of the urge to mate. He couldn’t let her push him too far. He wouldn’t fuck her in the damn basement of Marge’s house without discussing it first. She might regret it later.

  When she lifted a leg and set her foot on the shelf at his side, opening her sex, he thought he would lose his mind. He sucked her tongue and held it, needing more of her.

  Layla let one hand slide down between them to cup his cock. That was the last straw. He had to stop her. He grabbed both her exploring hands in his and drew them behind her back, trapping them in one of his.

  She whimpered against his mouth, too far gone to make good decisions. It was on him to control himself. But there was no reason he needed to leave her panting with need.

  Gripping her wrists in one hand tightly enough to keep her from escaping, he reached between her legs with his other hand and cupped her pussy. Heat wafted from between her legs. He considered reaching under the edge of her shorts and stroking her folds, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more of her.

  Hunter’s movements were jerky as he fumbled with the button on her shorts and then the zipper. The moment the material fell apart, he slid his fingers inside, under her panties, finding her clit.

  The sound that came from Layla’s throat was musical. She bucked against him, rocking forward and backward. Her mouth wrenched free, and she met his gaze with swollen lips and glazed eyes. “Please. Hunter, please.”

  His heart skipped a beat. He would never tire of hearing her say that. He prayed he would get the chance a million times in the coming decades. He watched her eyes as he eased his fingers deeper and slid one into her tight sheath.

  Her eyes rolled back, and her mouth fell open. The purr that filled the room was sexy as hell. He slid his finger in and out slowly, tormenting her, knowing he was driving her closer to the edge. There was nothing more gorgeous in the world than seeing his woman fall apart.

  Yes, his cock was furiously hard, but it would have to wait. This moment was for Layla. After teasing her channel for several seconds, he drew his finger back out to flick her clit.

  She shuddered, arching her chest toward him. He glanced down at her breasts, wishing he could see them, the actual flesh instead of a yellow tank top. Later. There was time for everything later.

  After circling her clit several times, he added a finger and thrust into her with more desperation. The moment he ground his palm against her clit, she shattered. Her body stiffened for a single heartbeat, teetering on the edge before tipping over. Her pussy milked his fingers deliciously while he rubbed her clit with his palm.

  He couldn’t be sure what normally got her of
f, clitoral stimulation or vaginal. Currently, he was assaulting her from both fronts. But he couldn’t wait to learn every damn thing that made her tick. Every inch of her skin. Every ticklish spot. Every erogenous zone. Soon, he would know them all. But not this afternoon.

  He eased off on the pressure when she gave a slight wince, and then he enjoyed the long sigh that accompanied the slow smile spreading across her face long before she managed to open her eyes.

  As he pulled his fingers out of her panties, she finally met his gaze. “That was amazing.”

  “Yes, it was.” He finally released her hands.

  She lowered her foot to the floor and grabbed his waist. “Why didn’t you let me touch you?”

  He set his nose against hers, mostly because he needed to keep the connection and continue to inhale her scent. “I didn’t want to lose control and fuck you in the basement.”

  She grinned wider. “What’s wrong with the basement? Don’t tell me you prefer missionary in a bed. I won’t believe you.”

  He half chuckled, half groaned. “No. Not even close. I’d fuck you on every square inch of this house, but not when we’re not fully alone. Not the first time anyway. I want no inhibitions. And no regrets,” he added.

  She frowned. “I don’t think sex with you could possibly end in regret.”

  He gave her one of his half smiles—the kind that always made her heart leap. It did this time too. He could feel it through her body. “Like I said before, I believe I would nearly die if I let my cock experience heaven and then you took it away. I’m protecting my own heart as much as yours.”

  She sobered and planted her hands on his chest. “How very noble of you.”

  He smirked. “Practical. Protective. I don’t think I deserve noble.”

  “So, you’re seriously not going to have sex with me until I pledge my undying love and let you drag me into your den, naked and exposed?”

  He chuckled. “Your imagination is enchanting. I might have to find a lair somewhere and take you there just to fulfill your fantasies.”

  “I might like that.”

  Damn. Everything about her was enticing. His cock probably hadn’t seen the last of what it meant to wait for her to cave.

  Chapter 11

  After spending the entire afternoon taking inventory of the basement, Layla was starving. Lucky for her, she didn’t have to cook or lift a single finger. The nextdoor neighbor, Esther, had brought over a lasagna. She’d even included salad and breadsticks. The entire house smelled amazing, like red sauce and garlic.

  Layla had been dumbfounded as the woman explained that she knew Elena and Layla had all their focus on going through their aunt’s belongings and wouldn’t have the time or the inclination to cook.

  If Layla wasn’t mistaken, Esther hadn’t been at all surprised to find Hunter at the house. Layla was pretty sure the older woman winked at him a few times.

  As soon as she’d left, Layla had turned to Hunter. “She knows about us.” She’d shuddered as she’d stated that out loud. Nothing could be weirder.

  He’d shrugged. “Yeah. There’s no way to mask it. She probably heard about us being at McGregor’s last night through the grapevine. The town isn’t that large. Plus she knows our cars. I’m sure she saw me and Caleb pull up at the same time earlier. I’ve no doubt she also saw Caleb and Elena leave a while ago. She’s an old lady. Curiosity and nosiness are her daily fuel.”

  Layla had sighed. It was beyond strange that most of the town knew that Hunter was at her aunt’s house and suspected things that hadn’t even happened. “Sweet of her to make us food though.”

  It was two hours later now, and Layla was pulling the lasagna from the oven. “Where do you suppose Elena and Caleb went?”

  Hunter was setting the table. “No idea. They probably wanted to be alone. Can’t say I’m sorry or surprised.”

  Layla shook her head. “Elena would never run off with some guy she met last night. That’s not like her.”

  Hunter chuckled as he grabbed Layla around the waist and pulled her into his arms. “When am I going to convince you that Caleb isn’t ‘some guy’ as you like to call him? Neither am I.”

  Layla flattened her palms on Hunter’s chest. He was touching her again. She found she could almost keep a level head when there were a few feet between them, but when he made contact, she seemed to slide into a hypnotic trance of some sort. If the same thing was happening to her sister—as Hunter insisted—no wonder. “I worry about her. She’s more sensitive than me. If she really likes him, and he hurts her…”

  Hunter shook his head. “Babe, I swear Caleb would never hurt her. He’s off somewhere doing his damndest to convince her she’s his, the same as I’m doing.”

  She inhaled deeply. “You’re so blunt about it.”

  He shrugged. “No need to pretend. It is what it is. I know you’re still processing, but I’ve told you almost everything there is to tell.”

  “I feel like I have two hundred questions, but I don’t know what they are.” Her mind was racing. Her hormones were on overdrive. She’d never been so attracted to anyone in her life. What she really wanted to do was drag him up to her bedroom and find out if the sex between them would be as explosive as it was in her imagination.

  Hell, considering how easily he’d gotten her off in the basement a few hours ago, she was more intrigued than ever about what sex with a shifter might be like. But this man was solid in his insistence that he wouldn’t sleep with her.

  Hunter had worked his ass off all afternoon, moving boxes for her, going through them, sorting them into piles to sell, keep, or trash. There was no way she would have accomplished even half of that if he hadn’t shown up. Most likely, she wouldn’t have even come inside. She’d have spent the afternoon pulling weeds and avoiding the hard work.

  Granted, the reason she’d gone outside in the first place had been to work off steam from how aggravated she’d been with him in the first place. Somehow, he’d managed to smooth things over with her, though she wasn’t sure if he’d done so with his words or his touch.

  She patted his chest. “Here’s a question. Do shifters and their mates ever fight?”

  He drew his brows in. “Of course they do. Why?”

  She tipped her head to one side. “Because every time you touch me, you use your super powers to make me forget why I was mad.”

  He smirked. “Are you mad now?”

  “No. I was thinking of earlier when you first came over. I should be mad that you lied to us last night still. It was a bit deceptive. And now I’m not. I’m thinking every time I get pissed about something, you’ll just pull me into your damn arms, look into my soul, and convince me I’m wrong with your hypnosis or whatever.”

  He chuckled.

  “This isn’t funny,” she said, unable to include conviction in her voice.

  “Sorry. It kinda is.”

  She shoved at him, trying to free herself, just like she did every time she needed to clear her mind. His magnetism made it impossible to focus when he touched her. Dammit.

  He held her tighter, backing her up until her ass hit the kitchen counter, trapping her in the circle of his arms. “How am I going to convince you I’m not controlling you. It’s not me. It’s Fate. She’s guiding me toward you same as She’s doing to you.”

  Her heart rate picked up with the increased proximity and the way he held her. “And yet, I’d bet my last dollar, if I had one to my name, that if you let go of me, my head would clear, and I’d remember why I’m supposed to be skeptical.”

  He nodded. “This is true. We do lose a connection when we’re not touching. It’s nearly painful as the hours go by. My constant instinct is to reach out to you. I’ve been fighting it all afternoon. However, and I cringe to tell you this…” He hesitated.

  She grabbed his T-shirt and shook him, or tried to. He didn’t actually move a millimeter. “What?”

  He sighed, fighting a grin. “You’re not wrong. When mated couples fight, the an
gry one will often jump out of the way to avoid contact. I’ve seen both men and women leap up from a table and take several steps backward so they could hold on to their mad.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Regular humans do that too.”

  He lifted a brow. “See? Skin to skin contact can soothe anyone. Not just shifters.”

  “You’re probably right. At least partly. But this magnetism is still different.”

  “I won’t deny that. Afterall, I knew you were mine before I even saw you jog into my line of vision.”

  She shuddered. Would that concept ever get less weird? “How about you let go of me so we can eat, and then I have a request.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to see your wolf.” She wasn’t sure he would comply. Were there rules that said he couldn’t shift in front of her or something?

  “I can do that.” He leaned in closer and kissed her gently before releasing her.

  As he stepped back, she blinked a few times, slightly dizzy. “Just like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here?”

  “Sure. Wherever you want.”

  Now she wished she’d suggested he do so before they ate. Her curiosity went up ten notches.

  Chapter 12

  June 17, 1992

  * * *

  Dear Mabel,

  * * *

  I can’t believe your daughter is 16 today! Mom sent me pictures of her in her party dress when she tried it on last week. She’s so beautiful. I love her long blond hair. She looks so happy.

  I wish I could be there to sing Happy Birthday to her. I understand you’ve planned quite the party. I wonder if she’s as mischievous as you and I were at that age! I’m thinking of the time you and I snuck out of the house during our junior year in high school because Edith Summerland was having a party while her parents were out of town. She’d invited William Townsend, and you had such a crush on him!